Saturday, November 19, 2011
Quiet before bed
Right now, I'm trying to see God in dirty dishes, runny noses, and doses of Tylenol.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Bye-bye
Sybille has gotten really good at waving bye-bye. She'll open and close her two fists, and sometimes point to the person who is leaving, before opening and closing her hands again. It's so cute. Today, as we were dropping Alina off at school after lunch, Sybille was waving, and I said, quite rhetorically, "Sybille, can you say bye-bye to Alina?" Much to my surprise, she said, "Ba-ba."
Sometimes maybe we just don't expect enough from our children.
Sometimes maybe we just don't expect enough from our children.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Frost
I wanted to share this:
THE ONSET
Always the same, when on a fated night
At last the gathered snow lets down as white
As may be in dark woods, and with a song
It shall not make again all winter long
Of hissing on the yet uncovered ground,
I almost stumble looking up and round,
As one who overtaken by the end
Gives up his errand, and lets death descend
Upon him where he is, with nothing done
To evil, no important triumph won,
More than if life had never been begun.
Yet all the precedent is on my side:
I know that winter death has never tried
The earth but it has failed: the snow may heap
In long storms an undrifted four feet deep
As measured against maple, birch and oak,
It cannot check the peeper's silver croak:
And I shall see the snow all go down hill
In water of a slender April rill
That flashes tail through last year's withered brake
And dead weeds, like a disappearing snake.
Nothing will be left white but here a birch,
And there a clump of houses with a church.
--Robert Frost
The end of the first stanza caught my attention. I hope and pray that, at the end of my life, evil will have suffered a blow, that my life will have been a part of a great triumph which is even now being won. And, by God's grace, and God's grace alone, that will be the case.
THE ONSET
Always the same, when on a fated night
At last the gathered snow lets down as white
As may be in dark woods, and with a song
It shall not make again all winter long
Of hissing on the yet uncovered ground,
I almost stumble looking up and round,
As one who overtaken by the end
Gives up his errand, and lets death descend
Upon him where he is, with nothing done
To evil, no important triumph won,
More than if life had never been begun.
Yet all the precedent is on my side:
I know that winter death has never tried
The earth but it has failed: the snow may heap
In long storms an undrifted four feet deep
As measured against maple, birch and oak,
It cannot check the peeper's silver croak:
And I shall see the snow all go down hill
In water of a slender April rill
That flashes tail through last year's withered brake
And dead weeds, like a disappearing snake.
Nothing will be left white but here a birch,
And there a clump of houses with a church.
--Robert Frost
The end of the first stanza caught my attention. I hope and pray that, at the end of my life, evil will have suffered a blow, that my life will have been a part of a great triumph which is even now being won. And, by God's grace, and God's grace alone, that will be the case.
Trinity
ALINA: Mama, how many kinds of God are there? (begins counting on her fingers) There's God who is God, and God who is Jesus, and (pauses to think) God who is the Holy Spirit.
ME: Yes, there are three. (Launching into my oh-so-clear explanation of the trinity, and ending with) That's what the Bible teaches, but it's kind of hard to understand.
ALINA: Maybe they each take turns dressing up as God.
ME: Yes, there are three. (Launching into my oh-so-clear explanation of the trinity, and ending with) That's what the Bible teaches, but it's kind of hard to understand.
ALINA: Maybe they each take turns dressing up as God.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)